


A Pleasant Dinner

by Universeof7plus2plus1stars



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (Downey films)
Genre: Banter, Bickering, But she's trying, Canon Compliant, Dinner, Epic Bromance, Fake Character Death, Gen, Humor, Male Friendship, Married Mary Morstan/John Watson, Mary Morstan is so done, Minor Mary Morstan/John Watson, Post-Canon, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson Friendship, Sherlock Holmes Returns after Reichenbach, domestic I guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:01:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24607396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Universeof7plus2plus1stars/pseuds/Universeof7plus2plus1stars
Summary: After faking his own death and waiting to return safely, Sherlock Holmes initiates visiting John and Mary in their home. The thing goes about as well as expected.
Relationships: Mary Morstan/John Watson (background), Sherlock Holmes & John Watson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	A Pleasant Dinner

After defeating Moriarty and putting an end to their last case together, Watson had quickly yielded to the loss of his partner. Even though his grandiose death had rather shocked him, fortunately he was clever enough to expect a major ruse behind it.

Faking his own death, he thought, such a logical, if predictable thing to do. His friend had always been this dramatic, therefore the act suited him very much.

Holmes wouldn’t leave him hanging for a long time, Watson was certain. He never could leave him in peace. Surely, he made the wrong deduction solely by assuming that the consulting detective would remain dead for a decent time after convincingly drowning in icy water after falling from an impossible height.

No, Holmes let him know almost immediately that he was alive and in a perfectly passable condition. He sent him a letter, in fact, Sherlock himself handed it to him while he was passing a busy street. He must have been wearing one of his ridiculous costumes, because the doctor didn’t recognise him.

As for the letter, it didn’t communicate anything out of the ordinary. Holmes was alive and well, but hiding for an undetermined time. He expressed his satisfaction with defeating Moriarty, furthermore, he thanked Watson for assisting him.

Now, naturally Watson was tempted to write an answer for the sole purpose of explaining that he wasn’t assisting, but serving as an equal partner. On the other hand, thanking him was already a huge accomplishment, knowing his partner’s difficulty with expressing any sort of affection. Plus, Watson was definitely not willing to wear a costume just to hand an answer letter to the detective.

The slightly out of the ordinary part was written post scriptum, in which Holmes offered to pay a visit once he’ll be back in his line of work as a detective. He also wrote, quotation mark “it would give me very much of a pleasure to see you and your wife, Mary after an arguably long time, especially so since I have not had the delight of enjoying your company as of my so-called death”.

This surprised Watson thoroughly, knowing perfectly well that Holmes never even intended to hide his disappointment by the marriage of his friend, being convinced that marriages were an excrescential form of expressing your caducous feelings to a person with whom you’re inexplicably convinced you are destined to spend the rest of your life.

Nevertheless, Watson was quite looking forward to seeing the detective again and to elicit whether or not the post scriptum was written under the effect of some effective hallucinogene. He hoped not, because if it were, he would be obliged to worry about his partner’s health.

***

After several months, they finally succeeded in organising the discussed visit. Mary was understandably reluctant about receiving Sherlock in their home (I’m not reluctant about receiving him, I’m reluctant about the idea of our evening ending in an absurd turmoil, similarly to every single time he had honoured us with his presence).

Right now, Watson was seated between Sherlock and Mary, eating the entrée in an awkward silence. His friend hadn’t said much as of his arrival and Watson intended to start a conversation.

“So, Holmes, how’s work? Are the cases satisfactory?” he asked uncertainly, wiping his mouth after finishing the first course.

“Ah yes, they are. I solved the case of the ‘merry widow’ just yesterday.”

“That’s wonderful, Holmes, bravo! Who was the murderer?”

“The gardener, with whom the wife was having an affair, predictably. It wasn’t unbearably complicated, though it surely would have been much easier to solve with some assistance” subdued Sherlock in a slightly lower voice.

“We discussed this already.” sighed Watson, moving closer to Mary “I have a wife now, I can’t just help you out whenever you need my help”.

“Of course not, no, I wouldn’t ask for your help. I was simply implying that you may be missing out on certain things” continued the detective, visibly struggling to keep his more offensive thoughts to himself.

“And what would those things be?”

“Well, for one, your taste in fashion never was quite sophisticated” said Sherlock, emphasizing his point with questionable eye contact “but marriage didn’t particularly, so to say, help the case” he stopped abruptly, having met his friend’s equally questionable glare.

“Please continue.”

“I can understand how you had fallen for this woman’s charms” Mary smiled slightly and Watson prepared himself for a ‘but’ “but I’m certain that being in a relationship of the romantic nature doesn’t quite fulfill your need for an intellectual partner.”

At this point, Watson saw Holmes realize that he went too far. Mary coughed and lifted herself from the chair.

“If you might excuse me, gentlemen, I have to check on the chicken” she said politely and then walked to the kitchen. She could barely hear something that sounded painfully like a kick to the shin, before closing the door on herself.

“Ahh, Watson!” hissed the consulting detective, oddly offended “I’ll have you know, I simply stated my opinion which you had encouraged me to do beforehand.”

“Yes, and I’ll have you know that you have agreed not to criticize Mary in any manner, for she is my wife… What was that?” asked the doctor attentively, after hearing Sherlock mumble something like ‘thank God she’s not my wife’.

“None of your concern” snarled Sherlock and the doctor decided to continue.

“...For she is my wife and whatever mistake you shall point out in her, I’m not interested!”

They stared at each other for a few moments, the glint in Sherlock’s eyes practically asking if he has finished. Watson gently shaked his head. He wasn’t going to achieve anything by yelling.

“You owe her an apology” he concluded, provoking an impossibly indignant “o” in his friend. He widened his eyes.

“In no way am I going to apologize for being right and expressing my opinion!”

“So you’re not going to apologize?”

“No!” replied Sherlock, stubbornly crossing his arms, the child that he was. Watson grabbed him hard by his collar and threateningly pulled him closer.

“Then I shall make you.”

It was now that they were interrupted by Mary, carrying a superb plate of fried chicken. Watson awkwardly let go of Sherlock who adjusted his collar and managed to act completely normal. Mary ignored the tension and placed the chicken in the middle of the table.

“You may serve yourselves” she declared coldly before taking a seat. Watson glanced at Holmes, then reached for the knife. After cutting off one of the massive legs, he aimed for a wing.

“Khm” the detective interrupted politely, earning Watson to anxiously turn his head. “If I were you, I probably wouldn’t. Think about your health” he advised. Mary was about to open her mouth in defence of her husband, but the doctor cut him off.

“No, he’s right, I shouldn’t” he dismissed his intention to eat more and scooped himself some of the side. Sherlock, on the other hand, took full advantage of the opportunity and cut off half of the remaining chicken to himself. Mary eyed him intensely, but reluctantly took the rest.

They ate the main course in relative peace, despite Mary being visibly disturbed by the manner the detective crunched on the bones before removing them from his mouth. John sat with an expression that strongly suggested he wasn’t the slightest bit surprised, just disappointed. He rather hoped that his expression also suggested being ready to do anything to get out of the current situation, meet privately with the detective, then suffocate him affectionately, before taking a relieved breath and burying his corpse in the backyard. He might even buy him a tombstone.

Sherlock Holmes  
(1854-1895)  
A fine detective, a passable friend and a horrid person

Watson’s train of thought was interrupted by a clashing sound. He looked up and only saw Mary standing up and pushing away her plate. She disappeared into the kitchen, leaving the two men in an awkward silence.

Sherlock wiped his mouth, yet again, while John cleared his throat and experienced difficulties getting back to his earlier fantasy. Thankfully, Marie returned soon with the dessert.

Marie started spooning it into three equal portions and the detective was about to reach for his, when Watson interrupted.

“He can’t eat” he said without as much as batting an eyelid. Sherlock and Marie both turned to him questioningly.

“He can’t eat because he’s allergic to almonds” he continued. The detective intensely weighed the severity of the situation. While he was never going to admit it, in this particular case he may have been the one to blame, even though triggering Watson was probably easier than convincing a lizard that it can fly.

However, arguing with his friend when he had previously upset him was never a good idea and neither was correcting him to reveal that he was lying. The fact that the doctor always carried a cane with him was also a factor worth taking into consideration, especially so since, if he remembered correctly (which he did) John has been keeping it close the entire evening. Still, being lacking in humbleness, he hesitated.

“To... almonds?” questioned Mary innocently, but she frightfully seemed to be hiding a smile and not doing an exceptionally good job at it.

“Yes, well, I wouldn’t want my friend” reasoned Watson, by ‘friend’ surely meaning something else entirely “to get sick similarly to the time we spent in Prague.” Sherlock felt Watson’s cane lightly touching his leg. He did his best not to stiffen.

“His face got all red and bumpy, he was barely able to speak” continued Watson, emphasizing the alleged effects of almonds with uncharacteristically enthusiastic and quite imaginative gestures. Mary chuckled politely, yet frustratingly and the detective wondered, how long have they been conspiring against him.

“Yes, quite true” agreed Sherlock, trying to save himself from whatever would happen to him if he disagreed.

***

After the three had finished the meal, the detective (predictably) insisted on leaving. Not only because the ambiance has been unsettling, but likewise because the happiness of others was arguably depressive and Holmes almost always experienced significant mood swings after solving a case.

“I do hope you’ll remain in good health and without any problems” he expressed his good wishes with a stressedly prim smile.

“Have a nice evening, Holmes!” wished Mary with a genuine smile, making the detective’s only faker.

“Holmes” the doctor said goodbye, straightening in front of the detective.

“Watson” answered Sherlock, his smile disappearing. He straightened too, still a head shorter than his friend, to his slight disappointment.

“Have a nice evening.” concluded the doctor with a victorious grin, before closing the front door frightfully close to his friend’s face.

Holmes huffed, a gesture he normally only allowed himself when someone said something excruciatingly obtuse. It shall grant him great enjoyment to go to a boxing match later that evening, and keep all the makings to himself. He already felt a strong desire to rearrange certain people’s faces.


End file.
